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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725602">I'm The Kind of Human Wreckage That You Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatestsun/pseuds/thegreatestsun'>thegreatestsun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Based on a My Chemical Romance Song, F/F, Minor Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Stephanie Brown is a lil oblivious, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Tim Drake is a Mess, Vampires, Warnings May Change, can we make that a tag please, inspired by twilight kinda only i've never watched or read twilight, ish?, just bc you know. vamp au., just stick with me i promise it'll be okay-ish, like a lot, this doesn't make much sense but it's fun so who cares, yeah look a lot is gonna happen here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:22:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,041</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatestsun/pseuds/thegreatestsun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Waynes are weird. </p><p>And the more Steph finds out about them, they just get weirder and weirder.</p><p>---</p><p>AU: The batfam are vampires.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Stephanie Brown &amp; Cassandra Cain &amp; Tim Drake &amp; Dick Grayson &amp; Jason Todd &amp; Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown &amp; Duke Thomas, Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. They Come Alive When The Sun Goes Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi!! so welcome to another one of my super self-indulgent AUs because i have no self control &lt;3</p><p>this is gonna be a pretty drawn out one lads, i won't lie. i have a lot planned. this chapter is mostly just set up, and hopefully the second one will be at least a little funny lmao.</p><p>(title is taken from Blood by My Chemical Romance because i thought it was appropriate. and the chapter title is from Vampire by the Orion Experience because i am HILARIOUS)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steph knew the Waynes were weird. <em>Everybody </em>did. Like, what kind of family had more than four kids where <em>none</em> of them were related, a consistent aesthetic, insane academic skills, <em>and</em> that much money without being absolutely crazy bananas weird? None. Obviously.</p><p> </p><p>The Waynes were strange, even by rich people standards. Even though they seemingly acted like totally normal people in the flesh, they were <em>billionaires</em> that went to a shitty public high school in Central Gotham. That was just suspicious; and besides, they just gave off a weird aura. Simultaneously, everyone <em>knew</em> them and respected them – well, they were given about as much respect as any high schooler was capable of – yet no one really talked to them. They were like stupid old museum artifacts or really venomous snakes. You could look, but not too close.</p><p> </p><p>But… maybe Steph was also a little weird. Because she had somehow found herself with a best friend in Tim Drake-Wayne.</p><p> </p><p>She was surprised at herself, to be honest. Tim was… weird. Not only because he was a Wayne – obviously that didn’t <em>help</em>, <em>but</em> – but because he was quiet, and reserved, and <em>freaky</em> smart. He always seemed to know exactly what you’d say or do next. And really, Steph had <em>no</em> idea how they had ended up as friends. Tim had been on magazine covers, flown around the world, had news articles written about him, met celebrities and people with so much power that it was difficult to comprehend on the <em>daily</em>. And Steph? Steph got paired up with him in gym class.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Alright, Stephanie, and…” Mr. Jones looked down at the high school kids crowding together, shivering slightly in the too-thin uniforms. Steph prayed silently that for once, he’d be merciful.</p><p> </p><p>But apparently, he chose cruelty that day.</p><p> </p><p>It was almost like the universe <em>didn’t</em> like her specifically. If any god did actually exist, Steph had some serious beef with them.</p><p> </p><p>“Stephanie Brown, and Tim Drake-Wayne.” He said, and Steph was ready to die. Cissie King-Jones shot her a sympathetic look as she walked across the gym floor, and stood next to Tim, who was trying to pull his hair into a ponytail. Emphasis on <em>trying</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Dude,” Steph muttered, keeping her voice low as Mr. Jones continued partnering up everyone else in the class. The gym was echoey as fuck, she didn’t want the entirety of the school to hear her conversation. “your hairtie is thin as fuck, that’s not gonna hold your hair.” She nodded at his mop of dark, thick hair, which <em>really</em> looked like it needed to be cut about two years ago.</p><p> </p><p>Tim gave her an incredulous look as she pulled a hairtie off of her wrist, and handed it to him. He stared at her hand, looked back up to her face, and back to her hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?” he asked, hesitantly taking it off of her. Steph nodded, and bent down, tying her own blonde curls up quickly.</p><p> </p><p>They were playing table tennis that day, which, sure, not Steph’s favourite sport, but at least it wasn’t dodgeball. Tim was quiet as he helped her grab a folded table, set it up, and stayed quiet even as Steph desperately tried to joke around with him, because the awkwardness was <em>actually</em> killing her. It was like talking to a brick wall, but if the brick wall had an almost permanent facial expression of potential distaste and definite boredom.</p><p> </p><p>Tim only half smiled at one or two comments, and Steph wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. She was <em>sure</em> Cissie would be laughing at her – well, she would if she wasn’t playing against Harper Row, who was taking up all her attention, judging by how intensely Cissie seemed to be playing.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Steph asked casually, as she dropped the small plastic ball onto the table, “you any good at this?” she spun the paddle around her fingers once, just to show off.</p><p> </p><p>Tim shrugged, and gave her one of his weird little half-smiles. “I’m alright.” He said, holding up his own paddle. “You?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m great at this.” Steph exaggerated. “Prepare to be annihilated.”</p><p> </p><p>Steph did not annihilate Tim. If anything, it was <em>very</em> much the other way around. He was <em>fast</em>, and apparently had a lot of strength hidden in those scrawny arms – the amount of times Steph had to duck to avoid a ball that was definitely going to take her head off was kind of ridiculous.</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus Christ man, how’d you get that fucking strong?” Steph asked, eyeing his lanky frame suspiciously. Tim shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>“Family secret.” He said, doing that little half-smile again, and then Steph realized he was telling a joke.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, steroids.” Steph said sagely, but the laughter that was definitely meant to come after that was quickly cut off by Greta Hayes and Anita Fite crashing into her as they chased after a stray ball.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>And afterwards, Tim had seemingly taken a liking to her. Because the thing was – Tim was <em>actually</em> speaking to her. The Waynes didn’t speak to <em>anyone</em> aside from themselves; at least <em>voluntarily</em>. And yet, when Steph frowned at her English book, Tim just so happened to be walking behind her, with a couple of his notes. And when she had a horrible realization that she’d forgotten money to buy lunch, Tim had thrown her an apple and a bag of chips because he’d been given extra, apparently.</p><p> </p><p>Steph thanked him, tried to joke around, and was thankful that he wasn’t giving her enough attention that the rest of the school would look at her weirdly. They weren’t exactly friends, but they weren’t exactly… <em>not</em> friends.</p><p> </p><p>But there was definitely a knock-on effect of being Tim Drake-Wayne’s ‘not-friend’. Mainly that his siblings now knew she existed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You’re Stephanie, right?” Duke Thomas-Wayne asked, and Steph had to mentally run through people he could be confusing her for before answering.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, yes?” she asked, a little unsure. Duke was nice and surprisingly normal, but, well, he was a Wayne. He was weird by association. The fact he’d skipped a grade and was one of the top students in their year regardless would normally be enough to make him certifiably bizarre, at least in their school, but it was probably the most normal thing about him.</p><p> </p><p>“Tim mentioned you were struggling with English.” He said casually, as if that wasn’t sending off a million alarm bells in Steph’s head.</p><p> </p><p>First, Tim <em>talked</em> about her to his family. Second, he just <em>had</em> to mention her terrible grades, of course. And third, apparently Duke had paid enough attention to remember. And <em>fourth</em>, he cared enough to offer his help. Which was sweet of him, but…</p><p> </p><p>…Well, she was a little humiliated, to say the least.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, kind of?” she lied. “I just don’t get Shakespeare, y’know?” and she didn’t. She barely understood any of what Mr. Crane put in front of them.</p><p> </p><p>“I find it fairly easy,” Duke said casually, looking around the library, and frowning slightly as he trailed off.</p><p> </p><p>“…Good for you?” Steph followed his eyeline, what was distracting him? The soccer team? They could see them practicing from the library pretty clearly.</p><p> </p><p>He suddenly turned back to Steph, smile wide. A little too wide. “I was thinking I could maybe tutor you? I need some extra credit points, and if you need help…” he shrugged casually. <em>Too </em>casually.</p><p> </p><p>…Okay, something was up. But her grades…</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, sure?” she said. Hey, why not take the plunge? Duke <em>was</em> really smart, after all. “If you wanna arrange something, when’s your free period?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sixth.” Duke said, before looking to the left, with an almost bored expression. His eyes widened again, as something apparently took his interest.</p><p> </p><p>“What’re you –”</p><p> </p><p>“You might wanna duck.” He said, almost cheerfully, and the next thing Steph knew, the window next to them shattered.</p><p> </p><p>She found herself under the table she’d been sat at, watching broken glass throw itself over her seat. How’d she get down here? A soccer ball bounced half-heartedly before it came to a stop at her feet, slightly deflated.</p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit,” Duke muttered, kneeling down next to the table, but there was barely any shock in his voice. “did <em>not</em> see that coming.”</p><p> </p><p>Steph blinked. “But you told me to duck–”</p><p> </p><p>“We should probably tell a teacher.” Duke added quickly, standing up and offering his hand out to her. He hadn’t gotten any glass on him, by the looks of it. “Come on, let’s get out of here, before we’re blamed for it. Wait, do you have any glass on you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, maybe some in my hair, but I think I’m good…”</p><p> </p><p>Steph took the helping hand up, and tried to not think about it for the rest of the week.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Duke wasn’t so bad. In fact, he was the most normal out of all of the Waynes, it seemed. It just meant now that Steph had <em>two</em> almost-untouchable weird kids interacting with her a lot. And Duke being a lot friendlier outwardly than Tim was a plus, but was arguably a bad thing, because he talked to her a <em>lot</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Which meant that Steph was actually kind of becoming real friends with Tim and Duke both. (She knew Duke’s favourite ice cream flavour – strawberry, apparently – and had an inside joke with Tim about their chem class. It was official now.) Which meant they were actively seeking her out, and she found herself doing the same.</p><p> </p><p>Which meant they were hanging out.</p><p> </p><p>Which meant Steph had been invited to sit at <em>The Table.</em></p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Do you wanna sit with us at lunch?” Tim asked in the middle of chemistry, completely casually, as if Steph wasn’t trying to light a Bunsen burner without also burning her hand.</p><p> </p><p>She somehow managed to not light herself on fire, and raised an eyebrow at Tim, who was still copying down the table scrawled on the whiteboard.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean,” Steph thought about who she normally sat with. She alternated who exactly she sat with, but it was normally some combination of the Row siblings, Cissie, Anita Fite, Greta Hayes, and a few others. She wasn’t exactly <em>best friends</em> with anyone. “sure, you can sit with me, but I’m sure–”</p><p> </p><p>“I meant at our table.” Tim interrupted. “Duke suggested it.”</p><p> </p><p>Yeah. She’d gotten that bit.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, but…” she looked around the room nervously, hoping Mrs. Isley would decide to randomly give them a pop quiz. She didn’t, and Steph couldn’t <em>believe</em> she was thinking this, but she was disappointed.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, wouldn’t Jason and Cassandra mind?” she asked, desperately hoping Tim hadn’t thought of that and would decide against this clearly ridiculous idea. Everyone knew there was more than just four Wayne siblings, but there were only four in their high school. Jason Todd-Wayne, Cassandra Wayne, Tim Drake-Wayne, and Duke Thomas-Wayne.</p><p> </p><p>Steph didn’t know much about Jason, but she’d <em>seen</em> him before – she’d assume he was trying too hard for a bad boy aesthetic, with the motorbike and leather jackets – if she hadn’t seen him in a fight far too many times before.</p><p> </p><p>And Cassandra… well, Steph knew nothing about her. No one did. No one knew her grades, she was very pretty but no one had actually ever taken her to prom or homecoming or something. All anyone knew was that she was a Wayne, and didn’t speak much. And that the Gotham tabloids were <em>obsessed </em>with her, just because of that.</p><p> </p><p>Which meant Steph had no idea how to speak to her, <em>or</em> Jason, when she inevitably found herself seated at <em>The Table.</em> How were you <em>meant</em> to speak to someone who’d been on the cover of Vogue with her stepmom before? Or someone who’s adoption was one of the most popular news stories in New Jersey for a solid two months? Just… <em>how?</em> How was she even meant to just sit next to them?</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>With great awkwardness. Apparently.</p><p> </p><p>Jason noticed her trailing after Tim first. “Stephanie, right?” he asked, looking her up and down quickly. Steph nodded, sitting down quickly, ignoring how she was suddenly nervous. She swore she could feel the whole cafeteria staring at her. About a thousand eyes judging. Was her hair a mess or something?</p><p> </p><p>“Hi.” A voice across from Steph said softly. She looked up from her lunch, and nearly choked. Cassandra Wayne was just casually sitting there, sipping something from a thermos and oh, <em>wow</em>, she was a lot prettier up close.</p><p> </p><p>Steph blinked. She couldn’t really take her eyes off of Cassandra, which… well she knew she liked girls, but she could normally get a hold of herself. She managed to get a choked “…Um, hey–” out before Jason, who was sat next to Cassandra, reached over, and flicked his sister’s shoulder. The movement seemingly was enough to break Steph out of her weird trance, and she blinked quickly, trying to reorient herself. As if she hadn’t embarrassed herself enough <em>already</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“This is Cass, by the way.” Duke added, probably to alleviate the tension. “She’s in your math, I think.”</p><p> </p><p>Steph nearly choked for the second time. Cassandra was in her <em>math?</em> Where she’d actually cried over equations before? (God, <em>fuck</em> trigonometry.) Oh <em>shit,</em> Cassandra must’ve thought she was such a <em>loser</em> –</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’m not.” Cassandra corrected, taking a sip from her thermos. Steph breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “I’m no good at math.” She said softly, smiling a little awkwardly. Something about the uncertainty of her smile made some knot in Steph’s stomach loosen.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, uh, me neither.” Steph said quickly, desperate to add to the conversation. “I’m shit at school in general.” She laughed awkwardly, as Tim rolled his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“No, she’s not, she’s just being humble.” Tim interrupted. “You haven’t seen her during chem class, I swear she’s got better grades than me.”</p><p> </p><p>Steph felt her face flush as Duke nodded and Jason raised an eyebrow. Tim was definitely exaggerating, but she appreciated the praise nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>“Damn, Tim <em>admitting </em>someone’s better than him? You must be good. Or he’s just a suck-up.” Jason commented casually, grinning as he took a swig from his own thermos. Tim responded with an interesting squawking noise. A small ripple of laughter went across the table, including Steph.</p><p> </p><p>“Definitely the second one.” Duke added, elbowing Tim, who was glaring daggers at his older brother.</p><p> </p><p>“I hate you all.” He stated, voice flat and sarcastic. “Even you, Cass. Dick is now my favourite sibling.” Cass raised her eyebrows at him as he stared down at his food in mock-anger.</p><p> </p><p>“Dick would agree.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. Damian is. Can’t believe I only have <em>one</em> sibling now.”</p><p> </p><p>“You think <em>Damian</em> wouldn’t–”</p><p> </p><p>Steph watched their argument as she ate, holding back laughter so she wouldn’t choke, and chiming in whenever she felt like she could. It was a weird, <em>weird</em> lunch, but she didn’t exactly hate sitting at the Wayne table. Even if it did make the whole school look at her like she had grown three heads.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Soon enough, she had Duke and Tim’s numbers saved in her phone, and laughed to herself about how she had about <em>three</em> verified accounts following her. She’d expected Tim and Duke, but she <em>might’ve</em> shrieked a little when she saw that Cass – she insisted that Steph call her Cass, not Cassandra – was following her.</p><p> </p><p>And when Tim casually asked her if she wanted to come over to study – or just hang out, he didn’t mind – she felt almost shocked. But… it actually seemed alright. She would definitely take hanging out with the Waynes on the weekend over playing Among Us for five hours in a row.</p><p> </p><p>She agreed to come over the next Saturday. Hey, maybe she’d even get free food.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sparkle Like Bowie In The Mornin' Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>aaa sorry this took me so long everyone, i'm more burnt out than i realised lol, but trust me, i've got an actual plot planned for this fic, so let's hope it actually gets somewhere! </p><p>(chapter title from "Vampire Money" by My Chemical Romance because i'm a filthy emo-)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day started off fairly normally, which should’ve been an indicator it would’ve been weird as fuck. The weirdest days always started out so normal it was suspicious. Steph woke up, rolled out of bed, yelled into her mom’s room asking if she wanted coffee before remembering she had an early shift and wouldn’t be home until noon. Ate breakfast alone, and tried to gauge if she needed to dress up fancy at all.</p><p> </p><p>Normally, she’d say no. She was just going to a friend’s house, after all.</p><p> </p><p>…But then again, most of her friends didn’t live in a giant million-dollar mansion that looked like it was <em>straight</em> out of a shitty vampire movie.</p><p> </p><p>And she couldn’t exactly <em>text</em> – “hey, Tim, do I show up to your house in my jeans from five years ago, or a ballgown? Just wondering.” That would be <em>stupid</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She spread her ‘fancy’ clothes out on her bed, and bit her lip. They weren’t exactly… great. They all looked okay-ish, but next to anything the Waynes probably owned, they looked cheap and somehow <em>worse</em> than her casual things. Especially as they were kind of faded, and that one dress had a rip in it…</p><p> </p><p>Instead, she tugged on her favourite hoodie (it was purple, and insanely soft, it was just <em>the </em>best hoodie.) and after careful consideration, threw on a denim jacket over the top, and waited for her ride to show up. (Tim had insisted that he pick her up, she’d tried to argue that if she got the bus and walked it’d be a lot easier for everyone, but she’d been shot down very quickly. <em>Rich</em> people, man.)</p><p> </p><p>Soon enough, Tim texted her, right as Steph remembered she was going over to <em>study</em>, and was throwing her homework into her backpack.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Tim<em>: </em>I’m outside.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Steph: Okay omw down</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Steph: Did you bring some big flashy sports car lmao</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Tim: Would you consider a Porsche a sports car</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Steph: Uh yes</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Steph: Ur not seriously in a Porsche right</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Tim: Um</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Steph: Okay jesus christ</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Steph: It better not be red</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Tim: I’ll bring the black one next time</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Steph: I hope you’re being sarcastic</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>He was not, in fact, being sarcastic.</p><p> </p><p>Tim was leant against a sleek, bright red Porsche, arms folded, looking uncomfortable. Steph would’ve laughed at him if she didn’t want to scream.</p><p> </p><p>There was a literal small crowd of people just hovering outside her apartment building. She knew living just outside Crime Alley meant it was unlikely that anyone had ever really seen a Porsche before – she hadn’t, at least in real life. Until now, she supposed – but still, did they all have to <em>stare</em> like that?</p><p> </p><p>She could <em>feel</em> her neighbour’s eyes following her as she walked over to Tim. God, she must look so cheap next to him. He <em>did </em>look ridiculously out of place, though, so she didn’t feel <em>too</em> bad.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi.” She said, looking over the car. It was uncomfortably expensive looking, and the more Steph looked, the more she felt like she wasn’t even meant to be standing near it. She realised with a horrible suddenness that she was missing a button on her jacket.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi – is the car too much?” Tim asked, genuine worry in his voice as he pulled open the passenger door and gestured for Steph to get in.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no,” Steph lied as she slid into the leather seat – which was weirdly comfy for a sports car – and fought the urge to jump as Tim closed the car door for her. “because you just <em>had</em> to go with the flashiest sports car you own, huh?” she joked, elbowing Tim in the ribs, as she shoved her old, worn backpack in between her feet.</p><p> </p><p>“You asked me too?” Tim said, and that’s when the memory hit her. She’d jokingly asked Tim to bring the loudest and most obnoxious car he owned. And he’d taken it literally.</p><p> </p><p>Steph slid down in the seat, fighting the urge to hide her face in her hands. “Yeah, yeah I did. My bad, I forgot.”</p><p> </p><p>She glanced over to her neighbours watching her in curiosity as Tim started the Porsche, and being as discreet as she could, stuck her tongue out at them as Tim finally starting moving.</p><p> </p><p>Steph’s decision to lean down in her seat, with Tim driving, quickly became a regret, because Tim drove like a <em>demon</em>. And of course, the car was a convertible, of <em>course</em> it was. She was half surprised her face wasn’t ripped off from wind resistance alone.</p><p> </p><p>She clung onto the seat and prayed that Tim would slow down a <em>little</em> bit, as her hair whipped her in the face and her eyes watered. Jesus <em>Christ</em>, did he not even feel the wind resistance?</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, her prayers were seemingly answered, and Tim slowed the car as the silhouette of Wayne Manor came up on the horizon.</p><p> </p><p>Steph pulled herself up, and blinked. “Dude. You <em>live</em> there?”</p><p> </p><p>Tim shrugged. “Most of the time, yeah. It’s less impressive up close.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s a fucking <em>castle</em>, Tim, I’m already impressed.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tim was a liar. Wayne Manor was <em>more </em>impressive up close. There were gargoyles on the walls and roof. <em>Gargoyles</em>. On a <em>house. </em>The door looked taller than Steph if she sat on Tim’s shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>Tim pushed it open like it was nothing, and dragged Steph inside.</p><p> </p><p>The inside of Wayne Manor felt like a coffin. The door slammed shut, and most of the light was seemingly extinguished. The noise from the outside world was cut off abruptly by the heavy door, and Steph felt almost blind.</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, someone turned the lights out.” Tim muttered behind her.  “<em>Jay!</em> If this is your fault, I’m hacking your shit!” he called, his voice quickly getting swallowed by the house.</p><p> </p><p>Steph blinked as her eyes adjusted. “Why don’t you have any of the curtains open?” she asked as she looked around. She’d seen loads of tall, wide windows at the front of the Manor, but it seemed everywhere she looked, they were covered by thick, heavy curtains.</p><p> </p><p>“Cass and Alfred have a sunlight thing,” Tim explained, gesturing aimlessly as he flicked a lightswitch and the main entrance was flooded with light. “Alfred’s got it really bad.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s Alfred–?” she asked, before turning and seeing an old man stood right in front of her. She yelped, and Tim laughed quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, Miss Brown, if I’m not mistaken?” the old man asked politely, and Steph had to do a double take, because no <em>way</em> a guy dressed like a Downtown Abbey cosplayer <em>actually</em> sounded <em>that</em> British.</p><p> </p><p>“I – uh,”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, this is Stephanie.” Tim said, gesturing to her as he passed. “We’re gonna head upstairs – is anyone in?”</p><p> </p><p>“Master Damian, Master Jason, and Miss Cassandra are in. Master Duke went out for the day, and I believe Master Bruce is at a meeting.” He offered, as Tim grabbed Steph by the wrist and started dragging her up the stairs. “Ms Kyle should be leaving soon!” he added, but Tim was already gone, Steph in tow.</p><p> </p><p>Steph just went with it, still a little shaken by the fact she was <em>in</em> Wayne Manor, and that it was even <em>more</em> gothic on the inside. She scanned every wall she could get her eyes on, and it felt more and more like Wayne Manor was actually some carefully constructed Victorian re-enactment stage, with the dark wallpaper and creepy portraits on the walls. Even a lot of the lights <em>looked</em> like gas lamps, even though they were clearly bulbs.</p><p> </p><p>“So… I actually brought homework–” Steph began, gesturing to the bag she had hanging off of one shoulder. Tim paused, before snorting.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, we can do that at some point.” He said, smiling about as widely as Steph had seen him do so far. “<em>But</em> I’ve got something pretty cool I wanna show you first.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is it the chandeliers?” She asked, craning her neck to get a good look at everything. Holy shit, she felt like she was in a period drama. Where was her mysterious gentlemanly lover, or her noble best friend who she was totally having a secret, forbidden gay affair with? (Hey, she swung both ways.)</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not the chandeliers, but they <em>are</em> pretty cool.” Tim said with a shrug. “Okay, how much do you know about photography?”</p><p> </p><p>Steph blinked at him. They’d stopped now, just in the hallway, outside a dark door. She shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>“You mean like fancy stuff? Not much. Angles are important, right?” she guessed.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re really the next Henri Cartier-Bresson, huh?” he said flatly, rolling his eyes, as if Steph had any idea who that was meant to be. “No, what I mean is, do you know what a darkroom is?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna make a crazy guess and say it’s a room you gotta keep dark.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a genius.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It turned out, a darkroom was in fact, a room that you needed to keep dark. It was a photography thing, you had to keep developing photos in the dark or they’d get all fucked up. Tim dragged Steph in, and pointed out the photos developing on the walls and tables.</p><p> </p><p>Steph squinted in the dim, red light, the only source of which being a single bulb in the centre of the room. “I know this is meant to be, like, as dark as possible. But seriously, <em>how</em> can you see?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know, guess I just have good eyesight.” He said with a shrug, looking pointedly at Steph, the red light from the single bulb reflecting weirdly in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Good for you,” Steph muttered. “so, photos, what are they of?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mostly a lot of candids.” Tim explained, gesturing vaguely at the photos hung up on little strings, like laundry. “You know what they are?”</p><p><br/>“They’re… like, in the moment, right? No posing?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, exactly, they’re always really <em>real</em>, you know? Gotham is great for candids, there’s always someone doing some weird shit…” his voice faded into the background as Steph scanned the developing photos. Tim hadn’t lied about them being ‘real’, they certainly felt like frozen moments in time.</p><p> </p><p>Tim apparently only shot in black and white – but it worked, especially with <em>what</em> he was taking photos of. Gotham’s skyline silhouetted against a rare sunny day, a gaggle of kids playing jumprope on the sidewalk, her dad smoking outside a building, a massive great dane napping on an expensive looking couch – <em>wait</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Tim had a photo of her <em>dad?</em></p><p> </p><p>He was outside a building, leaning against the brickwork, cigarette in his mouth and staring off into nothing, like he was seeing ghosts. Steph felt her mouth go dry.</p><p> </p><p>“Like that one?” Tim asked, suddenly right next to her. She bit down on her tongue to hold in a yelp of surprise.</p><p> </p><p>“I – it’s interesting.” She said quickly. Steph wouldn’t say she had many talents, but lying off the top of her head? That was definitely one of them. “He – um, he seem familiar to you, at all?”</p><p> </p><p>Tim stared at the photo, and frowned. “Uh, not really. Well, a little, because I’ve had him in my camera roll for the past month–”</p><p> </p><p>“Cool! Uh, hey, got anything else cool to show me?” she asked, grabbing Tim by the arm and trying to drag him out of the darkroom. He didn’t budge though, and raised an eyebrow at her.</p><p> </p><p>“The light starting to hurt your eyes?” Tim guessed, taking the excuse right out of Steph’s mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Steph nodded quickly. “Yeah, dude, I’m getting a headache.” She added, building off the lie quickly.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Apparently; Tim’s idea of ‘something else cool’ was… a dog.</p><p> </p><p>Which Steph was <em>not</em> complaining about, mind you. Titus was <em>giant</em>, and almost as tall as her when stood on his hind legs. He was definitely the dog Tim had photos of in his darkroom. (Along with… god. That was jarring.)</p><p> </p><p>What Steph was not prepared for, though, was <em>Cassandra fucking Wayne </em>to walk into the living room as Steph was slowly being pressed into the carpet by a massive dog.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, Stephanie.” She said softly, and Steph felt her heart half stop. Titus, the dog, proceeded to lick her face, making her splutter in a way that was probably <em>very</em> attractive.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Cassie, Tim, is this the girl you’ve been talking about?” a third, unfamiliar voice asked. Steph managed to crane her neck enough that she could see past the dog, and realised she was staring up at Selina Kyle. Aka Cass and Tim’s stepmom, and oh fuck she was <em>totally</em> making a fool of herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Um…hi?” Steph said awkwardly, trying to push Titus off of her. But Titus clearly had a grudge against her for some reason, because he leaned in and started to lick Steph’s face <em>again</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Selina – no, Ms Kyle, Steph <em>did not</em> feel like she was even allowed to call her Selina – laughed as Cass took a step forward and grabbed Titus’s collar, and casually pulled him off of Steph. Either Steph was weak as hell, or Cass was <em>also</em> surprisingly strong without looking it, because Titus was a big dog.</p><p> </p><p>Steph jumped to her feet quickly, and quickly scrubbed her jacket over her face, hoping nobody would look directly at her. Luckily, no one did, as Tim was busy giving Cass a judgemental look, while Cass and Ms Kyle scratched behind Titus’s ears.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I mentioned over dinner last night.” Tim said, raising an eyebrow at his stepmom. “You implied I had no friends and everyone laughed at me.” He added, the bitter edge to his voice dissolving slightly as a smile pulled at the side of his face.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s because you don’t,” Ms Kyle responded, with her own half-smile. Local billionaire’s wife and kids have inside jokes, who would’ve guessed? “But really, it’s lovely to meet you… Stephanie, wasn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>Steph nodded, not entirely sure what to say. “It’s – um, nice to meet you too, Sel – Miss.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim coughed, clearly to cover a word, but what he said exactly was lost on Steph, as she was suddenly being taken by the arm by Cass, who was speaking softly. “Would you like to see my room? I think you’ll find it interesting.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I – uh,” but Tim was already talking to Ms Kyle faster than what Steph could understand, and Cass’s gentle grip on her wrist felt more powerful than what she had the willpower to shake off.</p><p> </p><p>“…Sure. What, you have a statue of yourself in there, or something?” Steph joked. Cass just smiled at her, and dragged her down yet another dark corridor in Wayne Manor.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>me, setting up stephcass but not actually writing any yet: wow i am so good at romance,</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>steph really got adopted by a bunch of rich kids and said "okay i'll make it work" huh</p><p>leave a kudos or a comment or both if you enjoyed &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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